


Comment est-ce qu'on choisit un titre?

by Anonymous



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Being Walked In On, Bestiality, Knotting, Other, possibly canon era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:17:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3906037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They call Enjolras chaste because he's never been with a woman, or a man, but he and his dog are awfully close...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comment est-ce qu'on choisit un titre?

**Author's Note:**

> Rottweilers-- strong and mean but loyal and fluffy underneath-- are basically Enjolras' spirit animal.
> 
> http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/14280.html?thread=14275016#t14275016
> 
> Wow, I still can't believe I wrote this. Anonymous posting, here I come.

Enjolras felt like a wildfire. 

He blazed and raged and poured forth light and heat, and the crowd caught his fervor and carried it on. In a matter of moments the fury had carried throughout the square and into the streets beyond, where people passing by heard his voice and were caught up in the fire. 

When the police came like firemen to suppress the flames, it was inevitable that someone would get burned. The transformation of fury to riot occurs in the space of a moment that everyone seems to miss. Enjolras had been in many riots, but never once had he seen the first punch thrown, never once known which man, civilian or officer, was the one to incite the violence. All he knew was that the people had cried out with the one voice of many and then turned their many fists as one against the oppressors.

This was what he lived for. A single fight in the street carried little weight on its own, but the reports in the papers would at least have the aristocrats thinking twice about their actions for a little while. And someday, Enjolras would lead a greater thing than a riot.

His mind was a general’s mind, and he knew where the fighting would be hardest and worst. These conflicts did not last long, with the police inches from coming down on them even before the violence, and they were cut shorter still when the mob fell into disarray and allowed weak points. There were no shots fired yet, but there would be if the fighting wasn’t carefully managed. Enjolras saw a weak point before it was born, and filled the gap himself with a loud cry. He put down first one and then two of the opposing police force. His strength, though united with the mob, was not dull or mindless but keen and focused. He was a blade in a crowd of clubs.

But even a club can do damage. Enjolras saw movement at his shoulder and turned to meet it, but the officer had already struck heavily at his shoulder. To save the bone Enjolras let the impact crumple him to the ground, landing hard on his back with a cry he could not help. The officer raised his baton again, ready to bring it down on his skull—

A dark shine flashed over Enjolras, and then it was the officer who lay flat on his back, pinned by a heavy, dark shape that snarled and bared sharp teeth. No, Enjolras thought, a death like this will not help anyone. The only accomplishment would be making my dog into a killer.

“Heel,” he said clearly, getting to his feet. The dog didn’t move off of the officer, but he did close his jaws. Enjolras made his voice steely. “Maximilien Robespierre, heel.”

Maximilien Robespierre the Rottweiler whimpered and turned to stand at Enjolras’s side.

“Come,” Enjolras said shortly, leading the dog through the space he’d carved a moment earlier. The police were more than ready to let them go without challenging them; the tension of the riot was evident in every line of both man and beast. When they had taken refuge in a small alleyway, Enjolras leaned against the wall and rested his hand in Maximilien’s short, dark fur, calming them. After a minute he was more relaxed and began to stroke with easy affection.

“How did you get here?” he asked. “You’re meant to stay in my rooms while I’m out.” Maximilien looked up at Enjolras, but did not respond. Enjolras looked down at Maximilien, and felt a need built of riot energy and the sheer arresting power of this animal who answered to him.

Maximilien smelled it and perked up eagerly, pushing his muzzle into Enjolras’s thigh. He knew what that smell meant.

“No,” Enjolras said sharply. He could feel himself flushing a little— at the idea of being caught, or the prospect of what was to come, not even he could tell. He looked back at the fight one last time, but he knew he couldn’t stay. If he got involved again Maximilien would ignore any command to stay back, no matter how fierce Enjolras spoke. “Come, Maximilien.”

The walk back to Enjolras’s excessively nice rooms (something his parents had insisted on paying for when he declared he was going to Paris) wasn’t long, and but it felt interminable between the anticipation and the quick trotting of the dog at his heels (something else his parents had insisted on, to counteract the dangers of the city and the loneliness of being in a new place. They would shudder to think just how Maximilien kept Enjolras company). Every now and then Maximilien would bump his muzzle against Enjolras, but he knew better than to try for more while they were walking. 

At last they reached the right street and the right building and, after a walk up several flights of stairs, the right door. It was slightly ajar; Enjolras must not have locked it that morning. Maximilien was smart enough to turn a handle when he needed to, and familiar enough with Enjolras’s scent to find him even in Paris. Normally it wouldn’t matter if Maximilien wandered for a few hours while he was out, but Enjolras made a note to be more careful with his locks the next time he intended to get involved in a physical protest. Once they were inside Enjolras pointedly locked the door behind him and turned to Maximilien.

“You’ve been very patient, my good boy. Here,” he said warmly. Maximilien knew the tone as well as the words and surged forward, putting his paws on Enjolras’s chest so he could lick playfully at his face. Enjolras allowed the affection for a minute before telling him, “Down.”

Obediently, Maximilien went down, tongue lolling out and tail wagging forcefully. Enjolras scratched behind his ears in reward and then turned away to take off his clothes. He was painstaking and careful in folding and putting away his things now, because in a few minutes he wouldn’t be able to think about this, much less do it.

He could barely think about it now, with the excitement of the future looming. His muscles trembled with anticipation and leftover adrenaline as he sat down on the bed. Maximilien was still near the door, holding himself very still and watching Enjolras with dark eyes. He might have seemed impassive but for the involuntary wagging of his tail.

“Here, Maximilien,” Enjolras instructed, leaning back to rest his weight on his hands behind him. He spread his legs to make space as the dog bounded forward, short claws clicking on the wooden floor. Maximilien tried to stretch up to Enjolras’s face, couldn’t, and without hesitation began to lick at his stomach and thighs instead, greeting him happily but not yet moving on. Enjolras basked in the warm, wet feeling, and in the fact that his training had worked so well. Maximilien almost never moved on without instruction, now, no matter how eager he was.

And he was eager. Enjolras sat up a little to get a better look, and saw the tip of Maximilien’s red cock beginning to emerge from the sheath. It would probably be a few minutes before he was ready, so Enjolras decided to enjoy his tongue for the time being.

Then a stroke low on Enjolras’s stomach had his cock rubbing hard against the soft fur under Maximilien’s muzzle, and suddenly everything became much more urgent.

“Lick,” he instructed. Enjolras closed his eyes as the dog fell to lapping at his cock. Maximilien’s tongue was long and hot, and it rubbed over the swollen skin with the most delicious pressure. His ardor made him imprecise, but that was almost better. With his eyes closed, Enjolras couldn’t predict whether the next stroke would smooth over the length of his cock, or lap wetly at the head, or move lower and brush against his balls, or—

Or go even lower, straining to flick over his hole. Alright, Enjolras thought, it was time to move on. He arched up and spread his legs a little wider, letting Maximilien struggle to get access he didn’t have the dexterity for. Enjolras wove his fingers into the soft fur behind Maximilien’s ears and tugged him upward for a last hot lick to his shaft. Then he rolled onto the bed and settled onto it lengthwise on his hands and knees. Maximilien followed instantly.

“Lick,” Enjolras said again, this time holding his fingers out behind himself. When they were thoroughly wetted, he began to prod at his own hole. Maximilien was trying in vain to lick into him, but there wasn’t enough space yet; Enjolras was too tight. Instead the strokes slid between his fingers and over his rim, making him groan and fight to keep his balance on only one arm. He groaned again as his first finger slid inside, stretching him beautifully. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it felt amazing to work that finger in and out and pull at the rim. 

A minute later he was able to add the second finger. He held the two still for just a moment, as deep as they could go inside him, before he began to thrust again. The scissoring and twisting of his fingers was good, but even better was the fact that he’d loosened his rim enough for Maximilien to use his eager tongue to full advantage. For Enjolras, it was almost more trouble than it was worth to get deep enough to touch his sweet spot, but for Maximilien’s long tongue, it was the work of a moment or two. A high sound caught in Enjolras’s throat at the first pressure there, and it shocked Maximilien out of his play.

“I’m good, Maximilien, I’m good,” Enjolras reassured him breathlessly, inviting him back by opening his hole as wide as he could. “Lick, boy. Oh, there you go. Lick—“ The return of the pressure and wetness to his sensitive hole was almost enough to finish Enjolras there and then, but he didn’t want to give over his original plan. Anyway, it wouldn’t be fair to get Maximilien worked up and then deny him a hole to fuck. Enjolras thrust his fingers in deep once or twice more, checking. Yes, he was wet enough.

“Up, Maximilien,” he said, and waited a moment for the dog to draw back before he said, “Sit.”

Enjolras sat up to face him, keenly aware of the stretched muscles of his hole as he moved. Maximilien was panting and his tail was wagging enthusiastically, but he was sitting still, just as Enjolras had taught him to. Enjolras scratched behind Maximilien’s ears and around his shoulders before moving his hands lower, stroking over his belly. As he neared the dog’s sheath, Maximilien twitched his hips hard and helpless.

“Shh, calm down, it’s just your turn to get ready,” Enjolras told him, making his voice as soothing as he could. “Down.”

Maximilien flopped down on his side, presenting his belly to Enjolras. His cock was mostly extended and bright red, a sharp contrast against the black fur of his belly. Enjolras put one hand firmly on Maximilien’s heavy chest and another on his thigh to hold him still, and then he leaned forward and took the blood-hot flesh into his mouth. At the touch, Maximilien tried again to thrust, but the movement was aborted by Enjolras’s hands. The dog was stronger than the man, but he knew better than to break the hold. 

That obedience reassured Enjolras, and he pushed further down on Maximilien’s cock. It was hotter and rounder than his own, and it began to leak thin precome almost immediately. Swallowing, Enjolras began to move up and down over the length, teasing it further and further out of its sheath. With every stroke he could go down further and feel more hot weight on his tongue. The ineffectual thrusts of Maximilien’s hips were getting stronger and stronger, until finally Enjolras choked and drew back, deeming his cock at least near enough to fully hard.

With a deep breath, Enjolras rolled back over onto his hands and knees and prepared to give an order he hadn’t in several days. He’d been busy with his schoolwork and his plans with the Amis and he simply hadn’t had time.

“Fuck,” he said clearly. Maximilien scrambled to his feet to climb over Enjolras, moving into place behind him. His first few thrusts went wide, sliding over Enjolras’s thighs or downwards, but then the tip of his cock caught on Enjolras’s rim and all at once he was inside him. Enjolras moaned loudly at the fullness. Oh, he’d missed this. “Yes, yes, oh, fuck, Maximilien.”

The dog heard his command again and obeyed. Maximilien's pace became punishing almost immediately and his front paws moved to try to grip at Enjolras’s hips, pulling him back onto his cock. Enjolras let himself be pulled with a gasp. He was almost completely underneath his dog, now— Maximilien’s breath was loud and wet on his shoulder.

Enjolras maintained just enough control to keep his face from smashing into the mattress and let the rest go, relaxing into every sensation. Maximilien’s claws were biting deliciously into his hips as he thrust punishingly inside him, and his weight was heavy on his back. His cock, though— oh, was it good. Enjolras had a gift for eloquence that utterly deserted him when it came to the pleasure of having Maximilien inside him. He was hot and slick with steadily dripping precome and he stroked at Enjolras’s insides in exactly the right way. The longer it went on the more Maximilien swelled, getting longer and thicker and filling Enjolras up perfectly. The pleasure was nearly overwhelming.

“Oh, oh,” he moaned constantly, helplessly. The sounds were pushed out of him with every thrust of the dog’s cock inside him. Enjolras tried to hold himself up with one arm so that he could stroke his own cock, but he was instantly pushed to an uncomfortable angle and had to prop himself up with both arms again. His cock was aching and dripping onto the sheets under him, but he didn’t have the leverage either to touch it himself or to thrust against the bed. He wondered idly if he would be able to come without a touch on it at all.

It might’ve been a minute or an hour of mindless pleasure before Maximilien’s wild pace began to stutter, but Enjolras felt the change immediately. His spine arched as the thrusts got harder and quicker and Maximilien’s cock began to swell even further. It felt enormous inside him, but he knew that that was nothing to what he’d be feeling in a minute. He clenched down hard two or three times to spur Maximilien on, and then surrendered himself to the pleasure.

All at once the swelling became pronounced and defined— the knot was forming. Maximilien fought to get it inside him and Enjolras tried to breathe evenly and loosen his muscles. He knew he could do this, he just had to get his body to remember that. At the critical moment, Enjolras shoved hard backwards, against even his instinct, and then Maximilien was fully inside him and still swelling.

It hurt badly for a moment, but then Enjolras’s will overcame his body and his muscles relaxed, allowing the stretch. It filled him to bursting and pressed insistently against his sweet spot, making him collapse and groan weakly. How had he gone without this for even a few days? It was almost unbearably good, and Maximilien wasn’t even properly coming yet. Enjolras gathered his strength and pushed back, fucking himself on the knot, and then Maximilien shuddered and came. He held perfectly still except for the throbbing of his cock inside Enjolras. Enjolras moaned louder still at the liquid heat that felt like it would overflow him. He didn’t come, but it was a close thing, and it left him whining with disappointment.

Frustrated, he put renewed effort into thrusting against the mattress. He and Maximilien both shifted— pulling the knot against Enjolras’s rim deliciously— and managed to get Enjolras lying nearly flat on the bed with Maximilien still on top of him. Enjolras didn’t last long, once he had something to push against. One thrust, two, and he was coming hard, biting down on his own forearm to hold in a scream. Maximilien thrust again involuntarily, startled by the clench on his cock, and Enjolras felt his climax intensify. His vision went white and his ears rang and all he could feel was the terrible, perfect pressure inside him.

Enjolras came down slowly, feeling like he was floating despite being surrounded on all sides by warmth and softness. Maximilien licked playfully at Enjolras’s neck as Enjolras began to stir again, but they were both too tired to really move.

“Sleep,” he murmured, pillowing his head on his arms. Maximilien laid his head on Enjolras’s shoulder, resting calmly if not actually sleeping. It was only a moment before Enjolras drifted off in a haze of satiation, Maximilien’s cock still leaking into him.

Enjolras woke with a start of fear at the knocking on his door. He almost leapt up to answer it, but as he shifted felt the sticky, drying come under his own stomach and grimaced. Maximilien startled as well, and Enjolras felt a sharp, sudden pressure on his rim. They were still tied.

The pounding on the door continued, and Enjolras groped for coherent thought. There was no way he could receive anyone, not like this. If it was an enemy, the story of a revolutionary leader playing bitch to a dog would spread in the span of an afternoon. It if was a friend— Enjolras wasn’t sure what his friends would do, but he didn’t want to find out. He decided to remain silent and hope the visitor would leave.

“Enjolras? Are you there?” That was Combeferre’s voice. Enjolras didn’t know what to do. He did not answer. “No one has seen you since the riot, so if you don’t answer I’m going to go ask the police if they’ve arrested you.”

“I’m here,” Enjolras replied reluctantly. It was difficult, but he managed to throw a blanket over both himself and Maximilien. The knot usually lasted for at least half an hour, and he had no idea how long it had been. He tensed up at the scraping of Combeferre’s extra key in the lock.

"I just need to check how badly you were hurt.” Combeferre sounded relieved. As the door swung open, Enjolras tried to arrange himself on his side, so that he and the lethargic Maximilien would look more like they were cuddling and less like they were tied. Using a dog for body heat was normal enough, right? Combeferre was familiar with Maximilien, so Enjolras wouldn’t have to explain that, at least.

“I’m fine,” Enjolras said tersely. Combeferre came into the bedroom wearing a very neutral expression, and Enjolras softened a little. A need to remove an intruder from this situation did not excuse hurting his best friend. “I really am, I promise.”

“No, you aren’t,” Combeferre said, as though speaking to a child.

“I wasn’t hurt, I’m just resting,” he tried to protest, but Combeferre was already striding forward. Too late Enjolras remembered the baton that had struck his shoulder. He glanced at it and saw mottled purple bruising spreading over the exposed skin and disappearing under the blanket. “It’s not bad,” he said quickly.

“Stop talking,” Combeferre sighed. “You can’t just neglect your body like this. One day you’re going to regret letting an injury go without treatment. Let me see how far down the bruising goes.”

“No!” Enjolras reacted instinctively, putting his other hand up to stop Combeferre. The motion caused him to pull against the knot and he tried not to let his reaction show on his face. Combeferre’s eyes instantly hardened— he took that as proof that the injury was much worse than it seemed. He grasped the hem of the blanket firmly and— “Combeferre, don’t—“ he tugged it off. Enjolras’s voice died in his throat.

“Oh,” Combeferre said. The sound seemed to be involuntary. His eyes were wide behind his glasses and fixed on the place where Enjolras and Maximilien were still joined. He swallowed two or three times before trying to speak. “You— you let him do this?” Enjolras felt his heart fall into his stomach. This was it, this was the moment he lost his best friend.

“I—“ he breathed deeply to brace himself. “I understand if you don’t want to associate with me any further, but please don’t tell anyone else. That’s all I ask.”

“Enjolras, that’s not what I meant,” Combeferre said gently. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach out to Enjolras. “I know dogs can be… forceful. When they want to mate.”

Enjolras sagged with relief. This was concern for his wellbeing, not his sanity.

“I like him to be forceful, but I trained him not to hurt me.” He let that confession hang in the air, watching Combeferre absorb and process it. After a moment Combeferre knelt beside the bed and reached out to touch Enjolras’s shoulder, examining his injury exactly as he had come there to do. Combeferre was tense, visibly still turning over this new information, but his appraising fingers were as soft and clinical as ever. The bruise was large and darkening by the minute, but Enjolras had been right, it wasn’t bad. It looked worse than it was. Combeferre was still running his fingers over the damage when Enjolras suddenly gasped and tensed.

“Is it sensitive here?” he asked, making his touch still lighter. Enjolras shook his head.

“No, it’s not that. It’s—“ he made a soft sound again. “The— the knot is beginning to— ah! To soften.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” Enjolras said honestly. It was a wonderful combination of relief as the wide stretch began to abate and dirty pleasure as Maximilien’s come began to leak out almost immediately. Combeferre watched his face intently as the knot grew smaller and smaller, eventually allowing Maximilien’s cock to slip from Enjolras’s body and back into his sheath. Maximilien turned and fell asleep against Enjolras’s back as soon as he was freed. Enjolras couldn’t help making a bereft sound when he was empty for the first time in over an hour. Combeferre stared for a few moments more, and then he said,

“I have seen, before, the size that a— a knot can grow to. It is a lot to take.” He was beginning to turn pink. “You are alright?”

Enjolras listened to the halts in Combeferre’s speech, saw the pink blush rising in his cheeks, and had an idea. He stretched languorously and let his enjoyment of the stretched soreness show on his face. “I’m much better than alright,” he said blithely. “Maximilien is such a good boy.” Combeferre’s pink darkened a little.

“Do you mind if I— that is, would you let me—“ For the first time in Enjolras’s memory, Combeferre seemed lost for words. Instead, he made an ambiguous motion with his hand. 

“Would you like to feel where I let him inside me?” Enjolras asked, as innocently as he could muster. Combeferre’s mouth dropped open as he caught onto Enjolras’s game.

“Yes,” he managed, his voice a little tight. “I would like to touch you.”

“Alright,” Enjolras replied. He was a little anxious at the thought of a man touching him where no human ever had before, but this was Combeferre, whom he trusted more than any other. Whom he loved, as much as he knew how to love a single person. He relaxed and lifted a knee to spread himself wide.

Combeferre’s fingers trailed down from their place on his shoulder, pressing gently into the muscles of his chest and side, running over the little cuts where Maximilien’s claws had bit into his hips, and finally resting lightly over his hole. Combeferre took a deep breath, and then pressed in. Enjolras groaned a little at the touch on his oversensitive skin, but the noise Combeferre made was louder.

“You’re so loose,” he whispered. “And it doesn’t hurt to stretch like this?”

“A little, at first,” Enjolras admitted. “But I’ve grown used to it.”

“Used to it,” Combeferre repeated. His voice sounded awed. “You do this often?”

“As often as I can. Sometimes I have written speeches lying in bed, while we are still tied.” It felt strange to be boasting of this where he had expected to feel ashamed, but with every word the pink flush spread further down Combeferre’s neck, and Enjolras was appreciating the affect he had on his friend.

“You are amazing, my friend,” Combeferre said softly. Enjolras moaned as he twisted his fingers deeper. “By all rights you ought to look debauched.” His unoccupied fingers came up to Enjolras’s face. “The sweat in your hair, the flush under your skin… the dog lying at your back.” He huffed a little laugh. “But you do not look debased.”

“How, then?” Enjolras asked. There was no chance he could become aroused again so soon after Maximilien fucked him, but he enjoyed pressing into Combeferre’s fingers nonetheless. The arch of his body brought him close to Combeferre, and their faces drew near. Combeferre’s wide eyes were locked on Enjolras’s.

“You look transcendent,” he said, voice barely a murmur. His breath washed over Enjolras’s face.

“Come lie beside me,” Enjolras returned, not drawing back. Combeferre hesitated. “Please? I already know you are aroused.”

Combeferre ducked his head a little but moved to lie in the small space beside Enjolras, the two of them corresponding parentheses from their shoulders to their knees. His cock was straining against his trousers and Enjolras moved to free it, interested to see a cock that was not his own. Bared, it curved gracefully away from Combeferre’s body and twitched into Enjolras’s hand.

“Oh!” Combeferre’s exclamation was soft but impassioned. “I have not done this with a man before,” he explained.

“I have not either,” Enjolras said with a smirk. He reached his other hand out to take Combeferre’s wrist and guide his fingers back to Enjolras’s hole. There was little enough it could do for Enjolras, sated as he was, but Combeferre seemed endlessly fascinated with the lax muscle and the slow leak of watery come. As Enjolras watched, Combeferre’s eyes lingered over his body but also over Maximilien’s sleeping form. He had another idea and decided to act, given how well his last had gone. “Maximilien,” he said over his shoulder. The dog stirred and turned to lick at Enjolras’s neck.

“Enjolras?” Combeferre sounded nervous, but his features went slack with a quick stroke to his cock.

“I’ll tell him to if you want,” Enjolras said, looking earnestly at Combeferre’s face.

“I— okay,” Combeferre said after a few seconds.

“Maximilien, lick,” Enjolras instructed. The dog instantly went for Enjolras’s cock, laying quiescent on his thigh. Combeferre laughed as Enjolras yelped and pushed his head away. Then Enjolras held Combeferre’s cock out by the base like an offering, and said ‘lick’ again. Maximilien did.

“Oh, oh, Enjolras,” Combeferre groaned. His fingers fell slack inside Enjolras and his head fell against the pillow, burrowing into Enjolras’s good shoulder.

“I told you he was a very good boy,” Enjolras said smugly.

“Ah, yes, he is,” Combeferre managed. Enjolras looked down with interest. He was confident in his dog’s abilities but he had always been too caught up in the act to enjoy the sight of it himself. Maximilien’s tongue was long and soft and it moved energetically over Combeferre’s cock, wetting it and stroking it at once. Enjolras’s cock twitched a little with jealousy, but he was still sated enough to feel generous. He got to feel this all the time, but it was new for Combeferre. Enjolras pushed back on Combeferre’s fingers a little, reminding him of what he seemed to enjoy so much. His fingers almost immediately resumed their gentle stroking and stretching in his hole.

“Is there anything else you’d like?” Enjolras asked solicitously. In answer, Combeferre groaned, lifted his head, and kissed him. Enjolras startled a little with surprise, never having been kissed before, but he loved Combeferre and it felt lovely. He kissed back as best he could, swallowing the sound as Combeferre bucked his hips and came. They kept kissing as Maximilien cleaned up the mess and then began to attend to what had leaked out of Enjolras’s hole. That job done, Maximilien settled back to his place at Enjolras’s back.

“Are you alright?” Enjolras asked Combeferre. 

“Still rather surprised,” Combeferre said, reaching up to resettle his glasses from where they had fallen askew with the same fingers Maximilien had just cleaned. Then he reached over to rest his hand on Enjolras’s neck, only a little tentative. “But I think I’m good.”

“Good,” Enjolras said, smiling. This time, he kissed Combeferre first.


End file.
